chasing dogs and yellow bananas
by Roo1965
Summary: Jim ends up seeing things a little differently. Jim owies. written June 2004


**"Chasing dogs and yellow bananas" by Roo**

* * *

Jim Ellison was driving to work thinking about the series of petty thefts at local museums he and Blair had looked into last week. No way was it an outside job, he mused. Had to be someone on the inside, nothing for it but to review the statements and maybe shake a few people. He'd be on his own this whole week; Blair was otherwise engaged at the University. But that didn't mean he couldn't pick Blair's brains during the evening. The kid often saw things which made all the difference.

Suddenly he heard shouting, followed by loud tooting of horns as a skinny, scruffy man clutching something to his chest ran full tilt across the road. He was being chased by another man who bumped into a young woman on the sidewalk with a small dog on a lead. The man recovered, and followed across the road shouting "Stop that guy, he's got a purse!" The dog ran across the road.

Jim stomped on his brakes; there was a shrill squeal from the dog before it shot off again in the same direction as the handbag snatcher and his pursuer. Jim hurriedly called it in and got out of his truck to investigate.

A dead-end alley, he hated those. Gun drawn, senses on alert he slowly made his way to the end. He tuned into the conversation.

The normally polite member of the public had the purse snatcher backed up against the brick wall, his arm across his throat, trying to wrestle the purse out of his arms.

"That's my mother's purse you dipshit! How would you like it if I mugged your old lady, huh?"

"Dead," replied the snatcher

"What?"

"My mother's dead," repeated the snatcher.

"And this is supposed to make me feel, what…sorry for you? You little…give that to me!"

And they tussled against the wall again.

"Hey, hey, everybody calm down! Cascade PD Detective Ellison," said Jim announcing himself.

"I got him first!" shouted the member of the public.

"I can see that. The police department thanks you for your public spirit, now back away slowly and keep your hands up," said Jim calmly but firmly still pointing the gun

"Don't point it at me point it at him! I'm unarmed. I chased this guy; he pinched my mom's purse!"

"Your name?" asked Jim

"Brad Walsh."

"Ok, step away."

Behind him Jim could hear the blue and white stop at the street end of the alleyway and doors shut behind the exiting policemen, footsteps approached.

"You. Put the purse down now. Hands up where I can see them and turn and face the wall. Do it!" barked Jim at the snatcher.

Underneath the street grime the purse snatcher looked young and thin. Jim could see from his eyes he wasn't strung out, and he couldn't smell any chemicals or alcohol either. He'd been able to focus on the guy's smells from others in the alley way. Blair would be proud.

"Detective?" the uniforms were here.

"Okay, officers he's all yours," said Jim handing over the young man.

One officer retrieved the bag and checked it.

"Martha Walsh," said the officer opening the wallet

"My mom."

A voice called from the alley, "Brad? Are you ok honey?" The voice got louder as she got closer to them.

"Yeah. Got your purse and the guy. Some holiday this turned out be."

"Thank god you're ok. The purse doesn't matter, honey."

"Of course it matters Mom."

"Is this the guy that grabbed your purse ma'm?" asked the officer, while the other handcuffed the younger man and turned him round to face the pair.

"Well, yes, I think so. It was all so fast, my son just started running and…"

"Ok ma'm if you'd like to follow us and give some statements."

"Of course."

"I needed money for water and food," said the snatcher suddenly

"That's all?" asked the mother.

"Do don't drugs, no uh."

"Good for you."

"Mom, he followed us from the ATM he snatched your purse for crying out loud! How can you possibly…."

Jim shook his head with a wry smile at human nature as the voices moved off to the blue and white. The son was ready to beat the crap out of the man, his mom just wanted to feed him. He wondered if she would press charges.

He gave a final glance round the dead end alley as the blue and white finally loaded up and drove back to HQ. He'd give his end of the report when he got in.

Meanwhile the heat from the overhead sun and the rubbish was making him feel mildly nauseous. The heat wave had caught the city by surprise, even though it was July. It wouldn't last, it never did in Cascade.

Then Jim heard it. A small whine and a rustle.

The damned dog! God had he clipped it with his truck after all?

"Hey fella, it's ok I'm not going to hurt you," he crooned softly, pinpointing the sound of a rapid heartbeat and smell to a dark space between two large metal dumpsters.

He crept closer, crouching down.

Two brown soulful, scared eyes stared into his calm blue human ones.

Another small step and he waited patiently, letting the dog get used to him.

He dialled down so could see into the deep shade, the small dog had a tag; maybe he even had a chip as well. Mutt, here, would be returned to his owner in no time. Two good deeds in one day before lunch even. Blair would tell him he could pack away his Superman cape after all…

He stretched out his hand to encourage the dog out.

"Come on fella. Let's get you back home."

Slowly the dog edged forward curiosity winning over its fright. It was small and still trembling, whining.

"Oh you really are a pup aren't you? Come little guy. I'm not going to hurt you."

He was glad he was on his own. If the guys in Vice or MC could see him now. He could see the banners now

"James Ellison, tamer of small scared puppies. No experience needed."

The pup licked his hands, and Jim scooped him up. Standing up once more, he looked over the wriggling pup; Jim couldn't see any obvious trauma. He guessed that the pup had been scared and confused with his owner being knocked over, the fleeing men, and the scuffle in the alleyway.

"Muttley," he read the tag. He couldn't believe it!

He moved his right hand to pet the dog under the chin as he turned to walk back up the alley towards his truck. As he did so a fire truck blared past tooting the horn at full volume, the dog bit Jim on the hand, and he dropped the dog. Jim spun round, his feet skidding in something slimy on the ground and he fell backwards hitting his head on the sharp rim of one of the metal bins.

0o0o0o0o0o

"Simon, what's up? You've left a couple of messages for me."

"Blair, I'm glad you called back."

"Sorry I've been unavailable. It's this summer lecture series; it's going to be a long week. But I'm free for now."

"So, Jim's not with you then?"

"No, I just said I'm out all week at the Uni. You lost Jim?"

"Looks that way. Can you come now and I'll tell you all about it."

"I'll be right there."

Half an hour later Blair sat in Simon's office as he listened to two uniformed officers describe what happened that morning. That Jim had not returned to fill out his part of the incident report which was crucial evidence. No one had seen him since.

"Well, what else was there?" asked Blair, trying desperately to think of something to explain Jim's absence.

"He called for back up, he was pursuing a purse-snatcher, and then he said we might need a dog catcher as well."

"He wasn't hurt at all?"

"No."

"The purse-snatcher had no gun and no drugs, no alcohol." confirmed the patrol man.

"Did anybody throw anything at him or touch him?" asked Blair, checking all possibilities.

"No, nothing at all like that. The citizen was the one doing all the fighting. There was nothing else in the alley."

"What about the dog, did they find it?"

"Dog patrol went and looked but didn't find a dog either."

"Is there a report of a missing dog?"

"It may be too early for it to come in, but we'll keep an eye on it."

"I'd like to see the alley, Simon."

"Okay Blair, let's go."

0o0o0o0o0o

The man woke up lying on his back, half in shade half in sun. He slowly sat up. His head hurt and when he touched it, his hand came away with blood. He stared at it mesmerised by the deep ruby colour and smoothness of it. A loud noise jerked him back to where he was. He looked at his fingers, the blood had dried dark. Magic.

He knew he was looking for something, or supposed to be going somewhere but didn't know what. He stood up. And the sunlight hit him.

Ow, blinded, burning. Shimmering waves pulsed at him. God, this was agony.

But he wasn't screaming aloud, his face screwed up in pain his eyes tight shut. Everything was burning up. He shaded his eyes with his hands and opened them up a tiny bit. Better but not by much. He lurched forward looking for shelter. He reached the end of the alley way. The sidewalk was in shade

Running, chasing, got to stop something. He didn't know. Keep moving, find shelter.

A board on the sidewalk stopped him

"Lecture today 11am Museum entry free to Cascade citizens."

He peered cautiously up the steps; the foyer looked dark and cool. It was better than out here. So he went in. Immediately the pain in his eyes soothed and felt better. Still jittery but better.

As he stepped through the foyer alarms went off. He clamped his hands over his ears.

The security guard came over. "Stand there and lift up your jacket."

He did so

"Oh, why didn't you say you were a cop? Your badge and gun set the alarm off! Hey weren't you in here last week about those thefts?"

The man didn't know what he was talking about, so he just nodded.

"Are you on duty? Looking for someone? You look a bit hot and bothered."

"No, its cooler in here, less bright," he replied.

"Okay then, Washroom is down the hall opposite the gift shop. Enjoy your visit."

He found the washroom and gratefully washed his face and hands. His right hand had some marks on it and was painful. He stuck it under the tap for a long while. That felt better. What should he do now? he asked himself as he returned to the foyer.

A place to see things apparently.

He set off.

0o0o0o0oo0

Simon, Blair and one of the patrolman arrived at the alley way. Jim's truck was still parked up on the sidewalk at a rakish angle, the result of his fast response to the events unfolding in front of him. But no sign of Jim.

_Jim, where are you?_ Thought Blair worry creasing his face.

The officer was explaining where Jim was when he last saw him.

"We put the people in the car and drove off. When I looked back as I reversed he was standing right here, watching us. He gave us a wave, took his hat off and wiped his forehead. Nothing wrong at all, I mean it's hot out here today. He said he'd be in later to fill in his part of the report. That's several hours ago now."

The man sat and looked at the picture on the wall in front of him. It captured his imagination. It filled his senses. He was captivated. Such color, such texture. What was that…there?

A hot hand landing heavily on his shoulder made him jump.

"Well you've broken the record for staring at that picture." The voice boomed at him. He blinked and looked around. A few other visitors were slowly walking round looking at the pictures.

He looked at the owner of the voice, his uniform was similar to the guards but his badge read room attendant.

"There are plenty of other nice pictures in here. You've looked at this one for over an hour."

"Uh, okay." so he moved on.

But some parts of the museum were very noisy with a school party and that bothered him. He retreated to a washroom and washed again. The café was too much and he didn't feel like eating anyway. The noise and smells made him all hot and itchy

Blair wandered round the end of the alley desperately trying to think of what could have made his partner disappear. _Think, Blair!_

He looked at the rubbish dumpsters again, peering into the big dark space between them. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he saw the flash of a familiar logo. He reached in and pulled out a baseball cap. It was a Jags cap. Like the one Jim often wore.

"Simon!" He exclaimed

"Yes?"

"I found this between the dumpsters! It's Jim's."

"How can you tell?"

"His name's in it. He marks a lot of stuff, leftover from the army, I guess." Blair handed the cap to Simon while he looked at the bins again.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked pointing to a dark smudge on the sharp edge of the dumpster.

"Damn. I 'd better call the team out," sighed Simon, he was glad they were both wearing their gloves. Was this now a crime scene?

0o0o0o0o0o0o

The man wandered through rooms full of paintings, sometimes stopping to stare sometimes not. He reached the final room. It was popular, judging by the number of people. He read the notice but didn't really take the words in.

"Retrospective- Andy Warhol. Paintings in Cascade for the first time!"

He pushed open the swing door and went in. Immediately he knew something was different. Like a moth to a flame it drew him to the furthest end of the room. As he got closer, he looked at the other people couldn't they see it? The pulsing light! It was burning everything. He could see the painting drying and cracking as he watched. This was terrible!

He saw one of the attendants, and grabbing him pulled him towards the big yellow painting.

"Look, can't you see it? You must stop it. It's burning!"

"What? I can't smell anything burning."

"It's drying out, the paint's fading, and can't you see the cracks? It's the light from up there!" and he pointed to the overhead skylight.

"Look the painting's not that bad! All the paintings are protected, so don't try anything funny." And the attendant walked back to his post, shaking his head.

The man had had enough, the light was really making his head hurt, and all the noise and smells were making him feel hot and ill from sudden spikes in his vision. He came out of the room with the bad light and found a cool dark stairwell. Soothed at last he sat in the corner turn of the steps and rested his eyes for a minute.

"Mommy, there's a strange man hiding on the stairs!" wailed a girl's voice, jerking the man from his doze.

Before he could gather himself two guards appeared, neither were from the front desk.

"Okay, mister. You've caused enough trouble for one day. Staring at pictures and talking about them burning. I've heard all about it. Now what are you doing here?"

"Nothing, resting." he protested

"Come on, go find someplace else to annoy."

"No."

"Time to go pal." and they reached down to grab his arms. He stood up.

"Hey, is that a badge? A cop?"

"Apparently."

"You don't know? Come on, pal, let's get you to the front desk and see if we can sort this out. Your squad can pick you up outside." said one of the guards as they frog marched him towards the front of the museum.

"No, not going outside, it's burning. You can't make me!" he resisted, pulling away from them.

"Jerry, best call this in. Can't smell any booze on him though."

"Okay what have you taken? You're supposed to be serving and protecting us, ya moron."

0o0o0o0o0o0

"I don't know where he could be, Simon," said Blair wearily.

"I checked the hospitals, he's not been admitted. Why don't we walk up the street a bit."

"Okay, it can't hurt."

They hadn't got far when Simon's phone rang.

"Banks. Okay. We're just round the corner from there. We'll check it out thanks."

"That was the Museum of Modern Art. Security reported a guy causing a disturbance. Seems he won't leave peacefully. And get this, he's wearing a badge but doesn't seem to be behaving rationally."

"Oh man, you think it's Jim? What's got into him?"

"Let's go and see."

As they turned the corner and went up the steps, they could hear loud voices coming from the foyer.

"Listen pal, it'll be easier for everybody if you go quietly! Your buddies are comin' for you."

Looking up they could see Jim's slightly dishevelled form being manhandled towards the door. Jim had his head down, and eyes tight shut.

Suddenly from the other side of the street a young woman was being led by a very small barking dog towards the museum.

"Jim? Hey leave him alone!" cried Blair.

"Bark! Bark!" went the dog, getting closer every second.

"What are you doing with Detective Ellison?" asked Simon

"He one of yours?" asked the guard

"Jim, what's wrong? Open your eyes man. Talk to me," said Blair desperately.

"No! Burning out here. Can't stand it!" was the agonised response.

"Can we go back inside for a moment? He'll feel better," suggested Blair. And they all returned to the foyer, Jim sat in a chair.

Once inside Blair saw Jim visibly relax.

"Feel better now? Jim it's Blair do you know me?"

Jim shook his head.

Furious barking sounded behind them.

"Lady, you can't bring the dog in here. And I don't think he's a Seeing Eye dog either."

"I'm sorry I don't know what's gotten into him. He's just a puppy; we've never been here so I don't know why he's dragged me here."

All the while the dog was whining and squirming. Suddenly it slipped out of the collar and headed straight for Jim. At his arrival, Jim opened his eyes and looked down.

"Muttley?" he said hesitantly and picked the dog up.

"Jim, what's going on?"

"Um, I…" suddenly Jim's face paled "B Blair?" he managed before his eyes rolled up and he passed out. There was chaos for a moment as Simon and Blair tried to stop Jim from falling forward onto the floor, and the dog was getting in the way.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Blair sat by the hospital bed, one hand lightly grasping Jim's arm so that he could tell when he woke up properly. Which shouldn't be much longer now he hoped. A nasty concussion, some stitches and a dog bite were the total of Jim's injuries.

Movement from the bed brought Blair back to the present; he tightened his fingers round Jim's arm. He stood up and was rewarded by seeing Jim's eyes flutter open. Blair pressed the buzzer to tell the staff he was awake.

"Hey, Jim. Are you okay in there?"

"Umm. Wha?" said Jim as he brought his other hand up to his face.

"Careful with that, you've got an IV in there."

"Dog?" said Jim as Blair passed him a glass of water with a straw in it.

"Muttley to be precise, who is now in quarantine,"

"Blair?…weird dream."

But they got no further as the doctor bustled in to check Jim over. He was to stay until the IV went through, plus he had to have his first vaccination shot.

"I still don't like the way you said the dog's name when you looked at me."

"Sorry, short circuited, overload I think."

"Well, concussion's been known to make people do strange things."

"Jeez, what did I do? I remember the purse snatcher, finding the dog."

"You don't remember the museum then?"

"Umm bright lights, barking maybe, then static- strange."

"Interesting. That was you passing out in the museum."

"Oh."

"Speaking of strange. What do you know about light, Jim?"

"There's different kinds of light, daylight, Infrared, ultraviolet, x ray at differing ends of the spectrum. Had to know about Infrared for the Night vision devices in the army. You see they detect the heat emitted by an object rather than light reflected off it. It's all down to the atoms exciting photon emissions." Jim trailed off as he caught Blair's surprised expression. "What, you think I wouldn't know about this stuff?"

"You never cease to surprise me, Jim. Well keep going on that thought. You apparently, for reasons I cannot fathom for the moment, were 'seeing' Ultraviolet light."

"That's nuts, chief, you can't see it!"

"I know. But I guess concussion does odd things huh. So I'm guessing that you woke up didn't know who or where you were, and tried to get out of the sunlight- which also has UV in it."

"I guess."

"Lucky for you there was a museum round the corner."

"Daylight is a very destructive energy. And it's not good at all for works of art on paper, or paintings and things like that. And you know what -UV light which we can't see is a big problem for museums libraries and galleries. It fades paints, photos, dries out paint and wood, and destroys the chemical bonds in paper fibres."

He was interrupted by Jim clearing his throat, and smiling at him

"Oh, sorry, but it's fascinating. The museums protect artworks by blocking out the invisible UV and reducing visible daylight as much as possible."

"What's this to do with me?"

"I spoke to the guards and the attendants, you said everything was burning, but you found the other rooms ok. Just the Andy Warhol room."

"So?"

"They checked the skylight you pointed out. And guess what?"

"What?"

"It had no UV filter. The contractors missed one. You pinpointed it. It was right over that painting Warhol did for the Velvet Underground. You know the one- the yellow banana. I would have thought one of the Marylyn Monroe's was more your style!"

"Wow. It's not going to happen again is it?

"Who knows Jim? Everyday is an adventure with you. At least you made one new friend on your travels, well, before he bit you that is!" said Blair laughing.

"Muttley!"

"Yup. You've had a rabies antibody shot, and then you'll need a series of vaccine shots. I only hope you don't react badly to them."

"He didn't mean it; he was scared by the fire truck!" protested Jim.

"But he'll be in quarantine for a week or so, even though his cute owner says that he's had all his vaccinations. Fortunately dog rabies isn't that common now, so you should be okay. After all you weren't bitten by a wild animal.

Strange how that little dog found his way back to you"

"What can I say, he liked me!"

"Perhaps the Blessed Protector schtick works for small puppies too!"

"Sandburg!"

"I'm just glad you're okay now." said Blair.

"So I can go home now, right?" asked Jim.

"Yes, later today. I'll make dinner. And for desert- banana boats!"

"You just wait!" spluttered Jim as he sat up, and then discovered he was tethered to an IV pole. He lay down again. The sudden movement made his head ache.

"I'll put ice cream on it and everything, raspberry sauce even," said Blair quietly seeing that he'd closed his eyes.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Anytime, Jim."

The End


End file.
